


Post-Epiphany

by St_Salieri



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi, Season/Series 06, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-26
Updated: 2006-02-26
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing Connor, Angel comes to Sunnydale desperate for Giles's help, not knowing that Giles has gone back to England. Instead, he has an unexpected encounter with Buffy and Spike. Post-<i>Hells Bells</i> (BtVS) and <i>Forgiving</i> (AtS).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post-Epiphany

 

If he'd known, he wouldn't have come. Of course, that was pretty much the story of his life. If only he'd known ahead of time...hell, a lot of things wouldn't have happened.

Giles wasn't at his apartment. More importantly, he didn't seem to have been there for months, if the scent was anything to go by. Someone else appeared to be living there at the moment, and Angel didn't really have the patience or energy necessary to tease out the reasons for his disappearance. It was important to get the information he came for and get out before he saw anyone else. He couldn't handle seeing any of the others right now, especially not _her_ , but he had no choice. Groaning, annoyed at the delay, Angel took off at a brisk walk in the direction of Buffy's house. With any luck, Willow would be there, and she would be able to tell him what he needed.

Anxious to clear his head a little, Angel decided to leave his car and walk. The night was clear and cool, a refreshing contrast to the early heat wave that had swept across southern California, and he felt himself ease back into the psychic rhythm of Sunnydale: the peaceful exterior overlaying the subsonic rumble of the slumbering Hellmouth. It was different than the frantic energy of L.A., but no less dangerous in its own way.

Of course, the most dangerous thing in the town was the girl who had the sacred duty to protect it.

"...and I told you no. Give it a rest, or go home."

Angel shut his eyes in frustration at the faint sound of the familiar voice. Buffy was the last person he wanted to see at this point. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't even realized exactly how far he'd walked. He glanced around and saw the gates of Restview Cemetery across the street, not half a mile from the old mansion in which he used to live -- with Spike and Drusilla after he'd lost his soul, and by himself after he'd regained it. And speaking of Spike....

"Aw, come on, Slayer. When's the last time you had a little fun in a cemetery?"

Angel felt his hands clench into fists. He'd know that voice anywhere. What in the hell was he doing patrolling with Buffy, and why wasn't she kicking his ass just on general principle for that lascivious tone? Angel ducked further into the shadow in time to see Buffy walk out of the cemetery entrance, followed closely by Spike. She had a broadsword slung over one thin shoulder, its point swinging dangerously close to the vampire who hovered over her like some sort of evil spirit in his long black coat.

"The only other place I can think of is that small patch of woods over by the old mansion," she was saying. "If they're not there, I'm thinking they've left town. Which means I get to go home early and catch the big Milkshake Night event with Dawn and Tara. Or, even better, go to bed early." Buffy glared at Spike before he could do more than open his mouth. " _By myself._ "

"Whatever you say," Spike said easily. "I've got a busy evening planned myself, if you must know."

"Uh huh," Buffy said dryly. " _Real World_ marathon with Clem again?"

"No!" Spike blustered, after choking for a moment. "Important stuff. _Evil_ stuff, not that you'd be interested in that sort of thing. _Dirty_ things, on the other hand...well, you know all about them, don't you love?" His voice had dropped to a low purr, but Angel could still hear it. He saw Buffy stiffen, but he couldn't miss the slight shiver that ran up her spine.

"Spike," she said, quietly but firmly, "don't. Please."

"...yeah, alright," Spike said after a moment's pause. He blew out a long breath. "Let's go find those nasties, shall we?"

They disappeared up the street together, and after a moment, Angel followed them. There was no way he could not, not after what he'd just heard. He stayed far enough behind the pair that he didn't think they'd be able to hear him, but this meant that he couldn't hear them either. They paused when they reached the mansion, and he took the opportunity to cautiously approach them.

"I don't see anything," Buffy was saying, her voice disgusted. "You know, the least these guys could have done was to stay around so I could kill them. Isn't there a demon code, or something?"

"Not as such," Spike said, scanning the horizon casually. He stiffened, and Angel froze. _Shit._

"You see something?" Buffy asked in a low voice, and Spike nodded and gestured toward the clump of trees Angel was crouching behind. Unwilling to be caught in the act of...well, stalking them, Angel took a deep breath and stepped casually out from behind the brush.

"Angel!" Buffy froze in shock, her face pale and her eyes wide. "What are you...." She glanced over at Spike, and...was that a guilty look? Angel was too distracted by Spike's narrowed-eye glare to pay much attention.

"Buffy," he said. "Hi." He closed his eyes for a second in disgust. _Hi?_ "I came here looking for Giles," he explained. "I've got a bit of a problem, and I could use his help. I thought maybe he'd have some books, or maybe the Watchers' Council would know something...." he trailed off, thrown by Buffy's look of confusion and Spike's condescending smirk. Angel wanted to rip his throat out.

"Giles is gone," Buffy said quietly. "He went back to England...wow, I guess it must be months ago. You didn't know?" She frowned in confusion. "Isn't Wesley working with you? I'm sure he knew."

Angel's jaw tightened. "No," he ground out. "He's not working for me anymore."

"Oh." Buffy shuffled uncomfortably, shooting Spike a significant look. Spike shook his head and puffed out his chest, as if to say, _I'm not going anywhere,_ and Buffy rolled her eyes at him. "Well," she continued, "is it something I can help with?"

Angel shook his head. "It's kind of a research thing," he said. "My usual sources haven't had any luck." He couldn't ignore the possessive anger rolling off of Spike in waves; it made Angel's hands involuntarily clench into fists. "Do you want to...talk?" he asked desperately, and after a long moment, and another glance at Spike, Buffy nodded.

The interior of the old mansion was dusty but still intact. It didn't look like any demons had taken up residence since Angel had left, which surprised him slightly. He felt a chill of remembrance when he passed inside, seeing the sturdy furniture and the set of manacles that were still attached to the wall.

"You know," Spike said, inspecting one of the chairs critically, "if I'd known you'd left all this behind, I would have nicked it long ago."

"Or," Angel growled, "you can leave now. I don't remember asking you to join us."

"Angel," Buffy said wearily. "Can we please not do this?"

Angel blinked at her. "Yeah, sure." He leaned against one of the walls, watching Buffy settle herself gingerly on the dusty couch. Spike took up station at the wall across the room, mirroring Angel's posture and scowl. They faced off against each other for a long moment, glaring, until Buffy cleared her throat loudly.

"Do I need to leave the two of you alone?" she asked sweetly, smiling in satisfaction when they backed down. "Now," she said to Angel, "what's going on?"

Angel stared at her, unsure how to respond. He couldn't believe how much she had changed since he'd seen her only a few months ago. He'd seen her at her worst then -- so withdrawn, only tenuously tied to the world around her -- but now....she looked more alive, but so exhausted, as if she'd been fighting nonstop for months.

"Buffy, what's going on?" he blurted out. Buffy lowered her head, unable to meet his eyes, and he saw Spike step toward her possessively. "I'm trying not to draw any conclusions here, but..." He couldn't even voice his suspicions, they were so unthinkable. "I mean, tell me you aren't...."

Buffy raised her head and looked at him. Her eyes were clear, but he thought he could sense traces of fear, and a little shame. "It's none of your business," she said calmly. Angel saw Spike blink, as if her answer had surprised him.

 _Oh God._ They _were_. He knew it. Angel clenched his jaw, trying to hold back the rush of rage. He couldn't even look in Spike's direction, he was so afraid of exploding.

"Fine," he ground out. "I guess we have nothing more to talk about."

Angel stalked towards the door, surprised when he felt Buffy grab his arm and haul him around to face her. She gave him a shake that made his teeth rattle.

"How dare you," she seethed. "You don't get to just show up here like this and start judging my life. You lost the right to do that a _long_ time ago."

Angel closed his eyes and held his breath, afraid to inhale any of her scent, afraid that he'd lose the last shred of his self-control if he let himself really feel the warm hands that gripped his arms so tightly. Buffy gave him a last shake and released him, stepping back and breathing heavily.

"I can't do this," she whispered, and then without further ado she pulled Angel's head down and crashed her lips to his in a ferocious kiss. Angel froze for a long moment, then kissed her back. Everything was gone in that moment -- Connor, Cordelia, Wesley -- and nothing existed except for the feel of her lips on this. It was only when she pulled back that the sound of a low growl finally penetrated his brain, and Angel cracked his eyes open to see Spike standing across the room. His hands were clenched into fists, and there was a stricken look on his face. Angel was suddenly reminded of that unthinkable time after he'd lost his soul, seeing Spike in that same room with that same look in his eyes while Angel ran his hands over Drusilla's body. Spike turned around and started to storm out of the room, kicking viciously at one of the heavy chairs. The sound of Buffy's soft voice stopped him.

"Spike? Please, come here."

Spike appeared to struggle for a moment with himself, but he ended up turning and making his way slowly back to Buffy. "Didn't think you were that cruel," he bit out. "You want me to watch you get it on with the big oaf? No thank you. I've already got the message, alright? So you can just...." He let out a muffled gasp when Buffy interrupted his rant with a resounding kiss. She had turned partially away from Angel's embrace to do it, and he stood frozen, his hands clenched on Buffy's waist, as she attempted to swallow Spike's tonsils.

"Stay," she whispered to Spike, her lips swollen from his kisses. He nodded dumbly, then shot a suspicious glance at Angel.

"What about him?"

Buffy blushed. "I want...." She appeared to struggle with herself, them crumpled. "Oh my God. What am I doing? Five minutes with you two and I turn into the Slut Queen of Sunnydale."

"Shhhh," Spike hushed, running his thumb over Buffy's lower lip. Angel was still frozen, and he could barely feel Buffy's skin even though his hands were still on her waist. Spike shot him a challenging look. "Nothing wrong with wanting, love," he said, holding Angel's gaze, as if daring him to be the first to pull away. "Nothing wrong about what you feel." Keeping his eyes on Angel, Spike lowered his mouth to Buffy's again and gave her a leisurely kiss. Angel swallowed harshly around the lump in his throat. He was aroused beyond belief, and it had been so long since he'd been touched....

Angel lifted a shaky hand and ran his fingers down Buffy's neck, feeling through her skin the moans she was emitting into Spike's mouth. She reached out a flailing hand and caught Angel's, crushing his fingers tightly before pressing his hand to her breast. She broke away from Spike with a gasp, turning once again fully into Angel's embrace. Spike went with her, attaching himself to her back, his fingers taking the place of Angel's at her breast.

Buffy stared into Angel's eyes, her look glassy and unfocused, pleading with him to stay. He lowered his head to hers in surrender, resting his forehead against hers while she clutched at his shoulders.

"What are we doing?" he gasped.

Buffy lowered her eyes. "Giving in," she breathed into his mouth, and Angel was lost.

He never remembered exactly how they made it to one of the upstairs bedrooms. He could only recall flashes later: pulling his clothes off while he watched with hungry eyes as Buffy lay back on the bed, gasping, clutching Spike's head to her naked breasts; running his hands slowly, slowly up her spread thighs while she grabbed at Spike's hands and moaned; lying flat on his back while she rode him, Spike behind her, fondling her breasts and rubbing himself against her ass with a look of ecstasy on his face. He couldn't possibly miss the way Buffy blossomed and glowed under Spike's touch, even when she looked at Angel with love in her eyes. He watched in awe as Spike took her, the two of them moving so fluidly together that they looked like they were dancing.

And then there was the moment when he was inside Buffy and turned his head to the side, blindly catching Spike in a kiss. Buffy had groaned and scratched at his back, and he knew that the sight aroused her. At that point, it ceased to be himself and Buffy, with Spike along as a necessary evil. Instead, it became Buffy-Angel-Spike, and it was as if the final piece had clicked into place. He could see it clearly now: this was exactly what he had been missing when he'd turned to Darla in his despair, this incomparable mixture of love and hate and lust that left him quivering and unable to locate himself. And during the long night, the two other figures in the bed blended together into the woman he'd lost when she'd sacrificed herself for her own child. And it was wrong, so wrong, but so completely right at the same time, because when he gave himself up to those contradictory feelings, when he truly lost himself, miracles happened and he was reborn.

 

*********

The grey half-light of early morning was starting to creep through the windows when Angel stole downstairs, his shirt in hand and his pants unfastened. Buffy and Spike had been curled up together in the big bed like a pair of cats. There was something so sweetly vulnerable about the two of them in sleep, their hair messy and their powerful muscles lax and soft. It was painful to see, but strangely beautiful at the same time.

It was just beautiful enough to allow him to leave without ripping Spike's head off first.

As he shrugged himself into his shirt and buttoned his pants, he heard the soft pad of bare feet coming down the stairs. He didn't need to look up to see that it was Buffy, but he did so anyway. She was standing at the foot of the stairs, dressed only in her panties and Spike's long overshirt, her arms wrapped protectively around her waist. He had no idea what to say to her. Luckily, she'd never had a problem speaking her mind to him.

"We shouldn't have done that."

 _Thank God._ "No."

"I mean, horrible wrongness aside, I can't believe we risked..."

Angel gave a pained laugh. "Perfect happiness not really an issue right now, Buffy."

"...oh."

"It wasn't you," he hastened to assure her. Who was he kidding? It was always about her, even when it wasn't. She had worked her way so deeply into his heart and brain that she was impossible to separate from the moments of his greatest successes and failures. She was family still, one of the company of those he had managed to fail.

"Do you need to talk about it?" Her voice was so soft.

"Not really, no." He cleared his throat, desperate to change the subject. "So...you and Spike? Is this a regular thing?" Why was he even asking this? He could tell that last night wasn't the first time those two had touched each other.

Buffy blanched. " _No._ Not anymore. That...that shouldn't have happened either. It's hard to explain."

"Because you love him?" He couldn't help himself. It was like picking at a healing wound; it hurt, but he couldn't stop poking at it.

Buffy shook her head, her eyes on the floor. "Because he loves me. There's something there between us," she admitted. She gave a rueful laugh, looking Angel boldy in the eyes. "I want him. It's not something I can explain to you, because I can't explain it to myself. I feel...something. I don't know what it is, but it's not what he...and God, what exactly does that make me?"

Angel cast his eyes to the upper floor. "I didn't see him complaining."

She tried for a smile, but it looked broken, like she had been practicing it for so long that she'd forgotten what a real one felt like. "It doesn't matter," she said. "It doesn't make it right."

"If it's not right, why did you?" If he sounded this whiny to his own ears, he could only imagine what he sounded like to Buffy. She glared at him.

"It's still not your business." Her voice hardened, ready for a fight, and he held up his hands in surrender.

"You're right," he said. "It's not. But I can't pretend that seeing you with him is easy."

"I'm not," she said. "Not with him." Sighing heavily, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Just tell me that you were thinking about me the whole time?" He tried to make it sound like a joke, and he knew that he failed miserably. He looked away as her face fell and she shifted uncomfortably.

"Angel," she said softly. "I will always love you. But this?" She gestured between the two of them, one bare shoulder slipping free of the loosely buttoned shirt. "This isn't what we're about, not anymore. We're different now, both of us, and so much has happened." Her voice tightened, and she paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not sure I know who I am anymore," she said, her voice choked. "I've been trying so hard, but it's not..."

Angel closed his eyes and turned away from her, the pain in her voice acting as a catalyst that triggered the immense swell of grief he could feel rising up to choke him. _Oh God, Connor._ He wanted nothing more than to collapse at her feet and crush her to him, but he held himself back. Buffy turned her face away, and he saw her lift a shaky hand to wipe at her eyes. They stood at opposite ends of the room for a long moment, frozen in their heavy grief.

After a moment, Buffy cleared her throat and turned to face him. "You're leaving." It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway.

"If Giles isn't here there's not much point in...." He winced at her hurt expression. "I didn't mean it like that. Again."

"I know." She smiled faintly and glanced back towards the staircase. "You probably should. Spike will be up soon, and I think it'll be easier on everyone."

And it was that small statement, _Spike will be up soon_ , that felt like a knife in his chest, even more so than the remembrance of her writhing under Spike's tongue. It bespoke not love -- and he believed her when she told him she didn't love the guy -- but familiarity, and in some ways that was so much worse. She was comfortable with Spike, comfortable in her own skin, even if she didn't realize it herself. He could see it so clearly beneath the sadness that hung over her like a shroud.

He wanted to rip that shroud away and let the girl he knew was still there, the girl he'd fallen in love with, shine through again. But he couldn't -- not for her, not for anyone. Not anymore, and probably not ever.

It simply wasn't in him anymore to be the hero.

"I guess that's it," he said. It felt...not awkward, exactly, but as if something important had come to an end. Maybe it had ended long ago, and he was only now noticing. Buffy seemed equally reticent, and she paused a long moment before walking over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you," she murmured.

He gave a bitter laugh. "Why? For walking out on you again?"

"No," she said softly, her eyes large and luminous. "For giving me a better morning after." She laughed wryly at the look on his face. "Compared to the last time?" she clarified. "Much, much better."

God, she was amazing. If he could give her a new memory, it was the least he could do after all of the pain he'd caused her. And it _was_ better. Not just compared to their first time together, but compared to the missing day when he'd held her and cried while they said their goodbyes. He didn't feel the same frantic grief or desire to cling to her. He just felt...older, if that were possible, older and sadder, older even than the weight of his own sins.

That's what fatherhood did to you.

Giving her hand one last squeeze, he slipped outside the front door without looking back. He hesitated, listening to the pad of Buffy's feet as she went back upstairs, then walked silently away from house and in the direction of his car. With every step away he could his failures bearing down on him again.

He didn't have any of the answers he'd come to Sunnydale for, which didn't surprise him. He should have known better. Trying to fuck himself into another epiphany was like asking lightning to strike twice in the same place.

 


End file.
